I couldn’t speak. I just pointed to the screen. My mother read the text aloud: “Your baby was not the first.”
The room went still again. Aunt Patricia’s face turned from pale to a sickly grey.
Suddenly, the door to the office opened again. A girl walked in. She was a senior, someone I barely knew—Lucia, the quiet girl who sat in the back of the library. She was holding a stack of old journals.
“I recorded it,” Lucia said, her voice steady despite the tears in her eyes. “I’ve been following Mrs. Rivas for two years.”
She walked over to me and took my hand. Her palms were sweating, but her grip was like iron.
“Two years ago, it was my sister,” Lucia said, looking directly at Mateo. “She was fifteen, just like Valeria. She was pregnant with Mateo’s baby. Your mother didn’t offer us money, Mrs. Rivas. She sent Patricia to ‘counsel’ us. She gave my sister those same ‘calming teas.’ My sister lost the baby… and then she lost her mind. She’s in a facility now. She doesn’t even remember my name.”
